


You Make Me Live

by writesometimes



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Flirting, M/M, Pining, Post Series, seriously sweet and fluffy stuff here peeps
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-06
Updated: 2019-06-06
Packaged: 2020-04-11 14:29:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19111591
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writesometimes/pseuds/writesometimes
Summary: Nevermind going through all the trouble of explaining that seeing the angel in any kind of distress or discomfort made his chest feel tight and unpleasant. Seeing him overjoyed seemed to have the same effect. It was hopeless.





	You Make Me Live

The restaurant was one from Aziraphale's dining wish list. Crowley had made the reservations two weeks in advance to be safe, but he'd never admit it. The tablecloths hung just right off the tables and the lighting was soft and the wine list was incredible. It was everything Crowley had expected from a place Aziraphale had been wanting to try for months.

They'd been seated at a nice table in a more secluded corner of the place, just as Crowley had requested, and were promptly handed two menus. Aziraphale had made the most delighted little sound when he saw oysters rockefeller on the menu. Crowley immediately ordered some and a nice bottle of wine for the table.

"You didn't have to do that." Aziraphale smiled shyly at Crowley as he set his napkin in his lap.

"And why not? I know you like Oysters. They've been a favorite of yours since you had them at Petronius' place in Rome."

Aziraphale smoothed the napkin out in his lap nervously. He stared at the cutlery sitting on the table, looking at Crowley just then would have made him dizzy. "I... I didn't know you'd remembered that."

"How could I forget it? I'd never tried them before you _tempted_  me to." Crowley arched his eyebrows playfully. Truth be told, it was one of Crowley's favorite memories. He'd never forget it, no matter how long he got to enjoy the world.

Aziraphale raised his menu to hide his blush. Sometimes he hated that Crowley so easily had that effect on him. One kind little gesture, one little shared memory of theirs dragged into the present, and Aziraphale felt like he'd somehow manage to melt.

Their waiter brought their oysters rockefeller to the table and the pair ordered the rest of their lunch before they dug into their appetizer. Crowley watched Aziraphale carefully as he had his first taste. It wasn't quite the same reaction he'd had at Petronius' place, but he still seemed quite pleased.

"Good?" Crowley asked as he raised his fork to his lips.

"Oh, yes! Some of the best oysters I've ever had." Aziraphale gave Crowley a coy smile and took another bite. If he just focused on his food maybe he wouldn't blush so terribly.

Crowley grinned and took a bite. They really were good oysters. He was just about to tell Aziraphale how much he liked them when he noticed a small spot on his friend's vest. "You've got a little spot.." he pointed to the angel's chest.

Aziraphale looked down and pouted. He dabbed at the stain lightly with his napkin. "Oh no! This is my favorite vest. I hope I can get it out. What do you think would --"

Crowley snapped his fingers and the stain disappeared instantly.

Aziraphale looked over at Crowley, his mouth slightly agape, eyes soft and full of tenderness. "You didn't need to do that, you know."

"I didn't want you to pout through the rest of our meal," Crowley explained simply. Nevermind going through all the trouble of explaining that seeing the angel in any kind of distress or discomfort made his chest feel tight and unpleasant. Seeing him overjoyed seemed to have the same effect. It was hopeless.

"You're too kind to me, Crowley," Aziraphale mumbled into his napkin as he dabbed at his mouth.

Crowley stared at Aziraphale for a moment before he chugged his glass of wine. "Let's just finish our meal, angel." There was that tightness again. Crowley knew what it was, he wasn't naïve, he just knew it was better not to name it. They weren't human after all, it could probably be safely ignored for another couple thousand years.

Aziraphale blushed again as he sipped his wine. They fell into an easy conversation of current earthly events and enjoyed the rest of their meal.

* * *

Every time Crowley walked through the doors of the book shop lately, he had to stop and take a sweeping glance around the place. Just to be sure. He didn't know if he'd ever quite get past walking in to find the place engulfed in flames, his best friend gone. Wasn't sure if that was something you ever really did get past.

He made his way farther into the shop and stopped at the record player. "A Night at the Opera" was sitting on the player's platter. Crowley smiled to himself and reached out, ready to drop the needle, when he heard what sounded like a whimper from somewhere in the book shop. He started peeking behind stacks of books looking for the source of the noise, his chest constricting with every step as he thought about what could possibly be happening to Aziraphale.

Crowley found the angel sitting at his desk fussing over a book.

"Not worth reading, then?" Crowley asked as he sauntered over to the desk. 

Aziraphale jumped a bit at his desk when he heard Crowley's voice. He hadn't even heard him come in, he'd been so distressed. "I... well I seem to have ruined one of my first editions." Near tears, he held the book up for Crowley to look at. 

"Just a little mug ring on the cover by the looks of it. Not like it's unreadable." Crowley looked softly at Aziraphale over his sunglasses.

Aziraphale frowned and caressed the mug mark. "But it was in pristine condition!"

Crowley stepped forward and carefully traced the offending mark on the old leather with his index finger. "Set a cup of cocoa down and forget it?" he asked quietly.

"How'd you know?"

"Give me a little credit, angel. I've only known you for six thousand years."

Aziraphale ducked his head bashfully to hide his evolving blush. Crowley caught it anyway, they were standing far too close together for him to miss it. The tightening feeling in his chest became worse, and he decided he had to do something. He placed his palm flat over the mug mark for a moment and closed his eyes. "Now there's nothing to fret over." He removed his hand and revealed a once again pristine book cover.

Aziraphale let out a little gasp. "Crowley! You didn't have to --"

"I know. It's nothing. Don't --"

"You're too kind."

"Do that," Crowley sighed.

Aziraphale rubbed the spot on the book where the mark had been. "Thank you," he whispered, barely audible. 

Crowley took a deep breath. His chest had gone from feeling like he was being squeezed to feeling like a churning sea in a matter of seconds. He pushed his sunglasses up on the bridge of his nose and tried to pull himself together. "Got anything other than cocoa to drink?" he asked coolly.

Aziraphale gently placed the book back on his desk and straightened out his bow tie. "I just got a bottle of twenty five year old Glenlivet, actually." He turned and gestured for Crowley to follow him.

"Perfect," Crowley drawled, and followed Aziraphale to the couch.

* * *

The book shop had been closed for hours, the sun had long since set, but Crowley and Aziraphale were inside sipping on some exquisite wine. The doors were locked, the lights were dim, and the atmosphere was jovial. Crowley was splayed out on the couch across from Aziraphale, laughing loudly at a rather saucy joke the angel had just told.

"Where did you hear that one?" Crowley asked, sitting up a bit to pour himself another glass of wine.

"Oh, I think maybe at The Globe one night. Or maybe it was at the barber's. I don't really remember. Hard to keep track after all these years, you know!" Aziraphale laughed airily and held his glass out for Crowley to top it off.

Crowley did a double take when he saw the sleeve of Aziraphale's coat. At first he thought the dim lighting and wine were surely playing tricks on him. But no, there were definite dark burn marks at the end Aziraphale's sleeve. He leaned over across the coffee table and took Aziraphale's wrist in his hand.

"What happened here?" Crowley slurred as he put down his wine glass and brushed his fingers over the charred fringe.

Aziraphale gulped down some of his wine and stared at Crowley's fingers as they gently brushed at the edge of his sleeve. He felt dizzier than any wine could ever make him. Crowley looked up over his sunglasses expectantly at him. Aziraphale cleared his throat. "I, uhm, I had a small accident earlier. I took a cooking class this afternoon and --"

"You took a cooking class without me?" Crowley pouted expertly.

"I... I didn't think it was something you would be interested in."

Crowley's mouth fell open slightly but words refused to come to him. That awful tightening feeling in his chest started. He brushed at the charred sleeve edge again.

"It's not too bad," Aziraphale spoke up. "And I love the coat so much I just figured I'd... live with it."

Crowley chuckled in disbelief. "I doubt that, angel. You couldn't live with the paint stain on the shoulder, you won't be able to live with a charred sleeve."

"We can't just fix every minor inconvenience with a miracle, Crowley. We'll get reprimanded." Aziraphale squirmed a bit in his chair at the thought. After all they'd been through recently, the last thing the angel wanted was more trouble.

"I do believe everyone above _and_ below are quite content to let us exist in their collective blindspots for the time being," Crowley mused aloud.

"But!"

Crowley's fingers slipped lower and covered Aziraphale's hand and the charred bit of his sleeve. Aziraphale inhaled sharply. Crowley focused intently on the sleeve and a moment later released Aziraphale's hand. The sleeve was perfect once again.

Aziraphale slowly brought his arm closer and inspected the sleeve. He felt like weeping from how overwhelmed he was at the moment.

Crowley cleared his throat and leaned back onto the couch. The mood had become far too heavy for him, considering how much wine he'd consumed. He looked at Aziraphale and chuckled. "Out of curiosity, what were you trying to learn to cook?"

"Crepes," Aziraphale murmured behind a smile.

Crowley laughed loudly and laid his head back on the couch. "Always getting yourself into a tricky situation over crepes. Next time, just ask me to take you to breakfast, angel. Much safer."

Aziraphale choked on his wine.

Crowley smiled slyly to himself and sprawled out farther on the couch.

* * *

St. James park was particularly beautiful that afternoon, and Aziraphale was glad to be out for a walk. The recent bout of rainy weather had left him feeling rather gloomy, so when Crowley had suggested they take a stroll through the park he'd agreed immediately. Aziraphale tossed his last bread crumbs to the ducks and the pair made their way to an ice cream vendor.

They sat together on a park bench, enjoying the sunshine, as they watched the ducks pass by. Crowley turned his head and watched as Aziraphale enjoyed his ice cream. He smiled to himself, glad they could even have the time together. He tried not to think too much about what would have happened if he and Aziraphale hadn't succeeded, but sometimes he couldn't help it. What if he'd never gotten to see the angel again? What if he really truly had lost his best friend?

Aziraphale noticed Crowley was staring at him and shifted a bit under the scrutiny. "Did you want to try some of mine?" he asked, offering Crowley his ice cream cone.

Crowley shook his head, chuckling. "No, no. I was just thinking. How many times do you think we've come here? To this park?"

Aziraphale straightened up on the bench and stared out the calm waters that stretched on in front of them. He hummed after a moment and cocked his head to the side. "I honestly don't know. Hundreds, at least. Why?"

Crowley finished up his ice cream and leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees. "I was just thinking. About everything. What if we'd never gotten to come back to this park? What if we hadn't succeeded?"

Aziraphale turned immediately to look at Crowley. "But we did! Everything worked out. Whether it was by our own doing or part of some --"

"Ineffable?" Crowley scowled.

"Yes, some ineffable plan. Either way, we're still here and things seem to have worked out."

Crowley sat back and threw and arm up on the back of the bench. "Why didn't you want to come with me, when I asked if you'd run away with me at the band stand that day?"

The silence that fell between the two of them threatened to take up so much space they'd be forced off the park bench. Aziraphale stared at his melting ice cream and held his breath.

Crowley watched Aziraphale for a moment longer before he sighed. "Never mind."

"I wanted to," Aziraphale whispered. So low Crowley almost didn't catch it but there it was, out in the open now. "I wanted to, you have to know I wanted to. But I couldn't."

Crowley nearly slid off the park bench. "You --"

"Please, Crowley, I don't like to think about that day." Aziraphale turned quickly from his friend to hide just how much agony the memory caused him.

Crowley wanted to gather the angel in his arms and never let go, but he wasn't sure how Aziraphale would react. So he settled for gently rubbing his back and smiling, waiting for his friend to turn around. When Aziraphale finally did face him again his eyes were watery, smile sorrowful. Ice cream dripped down his fingers where his afternoon treat had begun melting.

"Could I fix that for you?" Crowley asked, nodding towards Aziraphale's melting ice cream.

"No, really! No more miracles, Crowley. I don't want to get in trouble. Or you! I don't want --"

"I could just go buy you a new one, angel," Crowley said softly.

Aziraphale laughed, relived. "I suppose that would be okay."

Crowley smiled wide and helped Aziraphale to his feet.

* * *

Aziraphale clutched the door handle of the Bentley until his knuckles turned white. He knew he shouldn't have agreed to let Crowley drive him home after their dinner but he'd caved when the demon had leaned his long legs against his car and pouted at him. Buildings flashed by outside, lights blurred together, Aziraphale was pretty sure he heard a woman scream but it could have just been his imagination. 

Crowley noticed how labored his friend's breathing had become and slowed down a bit. "We're almost there, calm down," he reassured.

Aziraphale closed his eyes and took a steadying breath. "It's my own fault. I know how you drive."

Crowley pulled the car alongside the curb outside the book shop and put it in park. Aziraphale finally opened his eyes. Crowley was looking at him curiously from the driver's seat.

"What?" Aziraphale asked as he smoothed out his coat nervously. In the confined space of the car Crowley's gaze seemed even more intense than it usually did.

"I was just thinking, maybe if you drove the car once you'd see how much fun it actually is. Wouldn't be so terrified of it." Crowley caressed the steering wheel and smiled.

Aziraphale shook his head rapidly. "No, no. I don't think that would be something I'd enjoy at all."

Crowley sighed and dropped his hands to his lap. "Did you at least enjoy your dinner?"

"You know I did. I always enjoy dining with you," Aziraphale smiled wistfully.

Crowley was about to respond when an awful metallic sound outside the car startled him. He glanced into the rear view mirror and watched two figures run away into the night. "I think someone just keyed my car." Crowley sat perfectly still in the driver's seat for a moment before he threw the car door open violently. A long scratch down the side of his car confirmed Crowley's worst suspicions. "Some bastard keyed my car!" he cried in disbelief.

Aziraphale climbed out of the car quickly and went around the front to stand beside Crowley. "Are you quite... oh goodness they did," he gasped as he spotted the long scratch down the side of the car. He could hear Crowley's breathing getting shallower. It was only a matter of seconds before the demon would be overcome with emotions. The tips of Aziraphale's ears burned and his stomach felt like it was doing cartwheels. He had to do _something_. He couldn't bare to see Crowley upset over his car again.

Aziraphale took Crowley's hand in his own and smiled kindly at him. "Let me fix it," he said quietly.

Crowley held his breath and looked down to where Aziraphale was holding his hand. Looked at the scratch down the side of the car. "You don't need to," he said absentmindedly, looking back at their clasped hands.

"I want to," Aziraphale insisted, stepping closer to the demon. "You've fixed so many things for me lately, let me do this for you." Without waiting another second, Aziraphale snapped his fingers and the scratch disappeared.

Crowley raised his free hand and ran it down the now-perfect side of the Bentley. He stared at Aziraphale in disbelief. "You didn't have to do that. I know how much you worry about frivolous miracles," he whispered.

Aziraphale stepped closer and took a shallow breath. "It wasn't frivolous, it was for you. I didn't want to see you upset."

Crowley's mouth moved inelegantly, but no words came. Finally he took a deep, steadying breath and pulled his sunglasses off. He jostled their clasped hands and looked at Aziraphale, almost scared, somewhat hopeful. "How long have you known?" he asked softly.

Aziraphale, took in a sharp breath and outwardly began to panic. Crowley squeezed his hand. Aziraphale swallowed thickly and met Crowley's gaze. "Since you saved me from those Nazis I suppose. And my books too." He could barely breathe.

"I didn't want to see you upset," Crowley responded simply.

"And you? How long have you known?" Aziraphale asked cautiously.

"Maybe it was when you gave your flaming sword to the humans. Or when you tempted me into trying oysters In Rome. Or maybe when I knew I couldn't let you get beheaded over some damned crepes. Or it could have been when you gave me the holy water so I wouldn't have to rob a church. Hard to keep track after all these years, you know?" Crowley said sincerely.

Aziraphale smiled shyly and glanced back down at their hands. "What now?" he asked anxiously.

Crowley leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to Aziraphale's cheek. "Whatever you want, angel" he whispered as he gestured for Aziraphale to lead the way to the book shop.

Aziraphale smiled shyly and gently squeezed Crowley's hand as they walked through the doors of his book shop.

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't written anything in ages, and this is also the first time I've ever written for this pairing, so if it is terribly out of character I apologize. I just loved the series so much and got so emotional over these two I couldn't help myself. 
> 
> kudos and comments make my day ♥


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